


Resurrection

by Nestie



Series: Pain [1]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Ace character, Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst and Feels, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Cults, Gen, Minor Violence, No Sex, No Smut, No deputy, Original Character(s), Realistic, Revised Version, Violence, rebuild
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-04-29 14:30:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14474697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nestie/pseuds/Nestie
Summary: In a quiet county of Montana, the difficult economy and the appeal of big cities have sucked up the life out of the communities. As the remaining inhabitants try to stay afloat, a cult starts buying land and getting involve in the area. They see their everyday lives change little by little.





	1. Joe

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Rebuild Fanfiction of Far Cry 5. You do not need to know the game to read this fanfiction. The only characters taken from the original content are the Seed family. They have been changed slightly in order to make the story more realistic.

**Chapter 1 - Joe**

Warm drapes of dust were slowly engulfing the living room. The bright sun rays escaped around the old and moldy curtains to strike through the hardwood floor and the aging furniture. Joe had kept almost everything when she moved in, as if not to disturb the fleeting presence of her old man. The house stood on two floors. The ground floor was completely opened except for the bathroom. The kitchen was compact and handy, and the dining space consisted of stools behind the counter. The living room was a small extension overpopulated with couches, sofas and a big center coffee table. The upper floor consisted of a long balcony with a bed, a couch and a desk, and a small bathroom which had only been fitted with old camping surplus equipment. All in all, the house looked like a patchwork of different elements collected from dumpsites. It looked old, overused but welcoming. It was situated in the North of Widow Creek, a quiet suburbs to the even quieter Wood Burrow. Grassy Lake laid ahead, a couple dozen meters away, burdening the soil.

The air was wet. It weighed on your lungs and no amount of ventilation could take away that stale sweat.

Joe dragged her feet out of her bed around eleven thirty, quietly woken up by the sound of the surrounding activity. The Dudds farm across the road, and Carter’s house East of her. The other houses stretched further, down the lake and up in the hills and mountains. The community was small but spreaded across the entire land. Joe did not have much land, just the house and the twenty meters around it. Nobody really understood what she was doing there. It had been surprising enough to learn that the old Jammy had a daughter at all, but the fact that at barely nineteen years old, she had taken the decision to take over his house, had puzzled everybody. This part of the Montana was only known for three things: hunting, fishing and farming. The young population, whether it be sons and daughters of farmers, or young entrepreneurs, had fled to the cities at the first chance. The sons and daughters got fancy degrees or jobs and were now enjoying the full extend of the citadine life whereas the entrepreneurs left their business in the hands of locals, collecting the money with swift bank transfers, without having to get their shoes dirty.

She didn't even know why she was really there. It was a peculiar feeling between the relief of having a place to be and the ghastly reminder that she did not belong anywhere. Having worked as a cook in Florida, she found a job in the local bar/café, a couple of minutes walking on the side of the lake. She was the cook there, the only one. She prepared mainly burgers, sometimes onion rings and, if a tourist or two were wondering in the place, some beans in a baked potato. She was sometimes helping the barman and the waiter, especially during football nights or when the local festivities invited people to stay up late.

Her shift did not start until four. She put two pieces of bread in the toaster and got herself a coffee, extra milk, extra sugar. She took her toasts in a small plate and got her coffee in the other and walked out. Her small garden extended towards the lake. She sat at the table and chair before seeing movement in the corner of her eyes. She turned and waved to Carter, her neighbour.


	2. Carter

**Chapter 2 - Carter**

He nodded as his neighbour greeted him from her garden. He lifted the box full of empty beer bottles and left it in front of the stairs leading to his house. House might be an overstatement. A shack or a shed really… He only had a small wooden house which contained the bare minimum. The only, but most significant personal item in his environment was a painting in his bare living room. A landscape of lush green plains with a farm in the background. At first sight, you would’ve thought it was just another landscape painting that you would have found in any shop. But this one was a painting of his old house, up in the North, where he had buried his wife. He had been in Europe as a UN soldier but his bigger battle had been to watch the woman he thought he was fighting for -in some patriotic twisted way- die slowly. His life was now a constant effort to not kill himself and to occupy his mind, with work and alcohol, sometimes both at the same time. It was during one of his drunken shift that he realised that alcohol did not have a lot of effect on him from an outer point of view. He was still the grumpy old fifty years-old, pouring glasses and being rude to annoying people. Nothing was changing. Sometimes he wondered if his mind did not bathed itself in a natural booze to calm down all of his thoughts.

He had too many, all the time. Good, bad, mostly bad. He craved good company, somebody to laugh with, somebody to be nice to, but everytime he came close to being an agreeable person, his guilt and his self-loathing came back right to his face, slapping him with memories tainted of regret. The only way to avoid that wave of bitter thoughts was to not try to let people access that part of him. It was difficult though. People around here were way nicer and friendly than in the cities up North. They were the kind to stop everything they were doing to help you with menial things. Even people like him… He was rough around the edges. The only aspect of his appearance he was taking care of was his beard. He shaped it with a lot of precision once a month. The rest was a mess, and that made it difficult to enjoy his beard self-care skills. His hair were starting to be very long. His skin was dark and patchy because he did not hide from the sun nor would he wear sunscreen when he was spending entire days outside. The only thing that seemed to beam out of his skull were his eyes, pale green.

He started to go back into his house when he caught somebody approaching in the corner of his eyes. He saw the bright face of Ida.


	3. Ida

**Chapter 3 - Ida**

Carter was a grumpy old man. He looked way older than his real age but there was something warm about him. The sort of people that knew exactly what to do to make things right, even if that meant to be hated by everybody. Ida saw that type of person as the reincarnation of the real christian spirit: doing what was hard for the best of everybody. She could not. She had a soft heart and a very fragile constitution. Arguments could start an asthma attack and she once had to go to the hospital for a stupid tax mixup. She owned the general store in Wood Burrow and was also a counsellor in the city hall. Mainly, her duties was to vote for highly essential decisions like: what kind of mocktail would the Pumpkin Festival have this year? Being a counsellor in a town like that meant a lot of gatherings involving food and alcohol and talks about weather. All in all, it was fine for Ida.

Very few people knew that she had, in another life, handled the investment branch of a big company in Seattle. She was young, had a bony face and the look of an old spinster. She made a burnout three years into the job, but she did gather a significant amount of money, more or less legally. It had been too much for her heart. She had been married then, and they took the decision to move to a less polluted and busy area. That’s how she ended up living most of her adult life here, getting the reputation of a nice and quiet lady whose husband divorced her, leaving for a young version of herself.

“Hey Carter, how are you?” the veteran frowned as he would often do when people would talk to him. As if the idea of anybody ever wanting to enter in contact with him was absurd. He stopped in mid movement, climbing up the steps leading to his door. “I’m fine, why, what happened?” he asked, feeling something was up. And he was right. He had that incredible nose, which could smell out shit from miles and miles away. Behind him, Ida could see the young Joe, sitting at one of her garden chair, chewing something and listening to what was being said. “It’s about… The new folks, you know, who bought the farms in the South…” Carter stepped down, approaching his fence. “I heard.” he said, waiting for something else. Ida darted her eyes to Joe, who was now standing by the fence separating her house with Carter’s. “Well… We’ve seen them in the general store this morning… They’re… Odd to say the least.”


	4. Faith

**Chapter 4 - Faith**

She flattened her dress with her thin fingers and got her smile back. “You know, we can offer a little bit more and help you move whatever furniture you wish to take with you.” the old man snorted rudely through his nose. He was detailing her with sick eyes. The kind of eyes that smelled like sin. Faith was young but she could perfectly well identify people that were sick in their minds. It was like a soaking, smelly towel, left in a bag. Everything would end up rotting if you did not take care of the wet towel. She tried to bury her contempt and find something she liked about this man. Just like Joseph had told her to love every single one of the sinners on that planet. But she found it hard sometimes. Especially when they had that tainted look on their face. And the harder she looked at him, the more difficult she found to keep her smile. “I need to study other offers…” “What other offers?” asked Jeremiah in a defiant way. He had already been warned about his big mouth and tendency to speak at the worst possible moment. But he was loyal and protective, the kind of person Joseph liked around his family. The old man looked taken aback by the young lad. Jeremiah had the look of somebody who was incredibly smart and quick. His big smile would break through his face and his black skin like a sun and his eyes reflected every single emotion that was going through his mind.

They were a small group. Faith, Jeremiah and a couple more folks, all wearing clothes branded one way or another with Eden’s Gate signs. From afar, they could be mistaken for normal young people. Faith glanced at Jeremiah, her cold dark eyes, a signal to calm down. She got her smile back when she turned to face the man once again. “Mister Blackwood. We know this area is known to have very low real estate value… We are offering you the full price you’ve put on this house and a bonus to pay for moving anything you might want to keep. It is a generous and honest offer…”. She tilted her head and cultivated the most innocent look on her face. Sometimes she had the feeling Joseph was only seeing that… Her pretty face. Sometimes she’d have enough of it. Sometimes she was glad. This time, the farmer seemed to doubt. Money. What a powerful weapon, just like the Father told them. Just like they all knew. That desecrated paper with sinner faces on them… “I’ll think about it, kids.” he said before backing out into his house. On the other side of the street, a neighbour pulled up. Was it shame that he was feeling? The will to not be seen dealing with the foreigners? They probably saw themselves as locals, but the small group knew one thing for sure: they were home.


	5. Leroy Jr

**Chapter 5 - Leroy Jr**

Most mornings were noisy. Between the fact that his parents could not talk to each other without shouting and their dogs that had barely been trained, he was used to the usual commotion surrounding Burke ranch. But this morning it seemed… More insistent… Actually, as he gradually emerged from his dreams, he heard voices he could not recognise… Several ones. Several people were at the ranch. The realisation made him sit straight up, like electrised. He stood up and walked to his window. Several people were gathered in the yard by the hummer and his father was waving his hands and arms and shouting interjections with his usual coarse voice. Only this time, his voice was high pitched. He was annoyed, scared or angry… Like an animal, his behaviour was predictable and you could have wrote little notes about him in order to hunt him down. He had his favourite places, his favourite food and it seemed like he was just doing the same mistakes again and again… Leroy Jr had no idea how he achieved to become a counsellor. Money, probably… Or the comfortable thought of somebody whose family had been around for generations. “But they can’t do that, can they?” shouted one person. He stood up, putting short tanks on and slipped into a shirt. He walked out barefoot to find his mother, anxiously observing the scene, a magazines with half-started crosswords in her hands.

She had that bonny figure, all in angles. She had long black hair that were as dried as the yellowish grass surrounding the ranch. A long time ago, she could have been mistaken for a witch. She would always wear flowery dresses cut in the old ways. Plain and simple. Her eyes were naturally defiant and cold, giving the impression that she was in a constant state of unhappiness. Although it was not completely correct, it was not completely wrong either. At that moment, she had a weary look on her face and was silent, which was unusual. She always had an opinion on everything and was quite adamant about the fact that her views deserved to be respected. But it seemed like she did not have any opinion on what was happening right now… Or that she was saving her bitter words for later.

“I don’t know what to tell you mate. I’d need to check the laws about this.” said Leroy Burke Senior. He was a round shaped man. Beer gut, small arms and a big head. He was compensating his small height by standing strong on his feet and keeping his head held high. But today, he seemed to be a bit too overwhelmed by the people in his yard, apparently very annoyed.

“Well, check them then!” said one of the men, leading a group of roughly twelve people. “Where do they get their money? It’s fishy!” shouted one of the women. “I… I can only look into the laws you know…” the woman who spoke did not seem happy about the answer “Well, get the police to look into it!” Leroy raised his hands once more “Now now… Let’s calm down shall we? We are not getting the police involved without a good reason.” another man, a farmer by the look of it sighted loudly before saying “That is not right, it does not sound right at all Leroy…” Leroy started smiling, his twisted and odd smile, and walked down the steps of the entry. “I’ll look into it. I’ll go there myself and see what they are doing. I promise I promise.” the farmer did not look impressed. “And then what?” Leroy shrugged and said simply “And then we see what we can do. Calmly, quietly.” his eyes meeting the ones of the angry woman from earlier.

Once the group away and the family back into the house, Junior asked, arms crossed on his chest, ready to hear the last major crisis of Wood Burrow, after the accidental death of an old cow last month. “What was _that_ about?” Leroy Father sat down at the dining table, obviously exhausted after having to deal with the situation. He looked puffy and he was breathing heavily. Probably the heat coupled with what had just happened.  “It’s… It’s… Nothing really…” Judie, his wife darted quickly **“ _That_ did not sound like nothing.”**. She had her back turned to them, putting a filter in the coffee machine with a visibly irked attitude.  “It’s… Come on Judie… they are always complaining about everything, they’re like that, you know…” the round man said before pulling out an old and stained napkin from his pocket and applying it to his face. She slammed the lid of the coffee machine swiftly and pressed the button. **“For once Leroy, I agree with you.”** Father and son raised their eyes to observe the frail figure of the mother, still turning her back on them, preparing three cups.  “Agree with me?” asked Leroy who was way too shocked to just savour the first time in month his wife agreed with him. Junior, on the other hand had a strange feeling. The young man sat at the table, quite curious, this time, to hear what his mother had to say.

He always had been convincing himself that Judie Burke was not very clever and did not have a very full life. She had never really worked, although she came close to it. He knew she went to a school to learn some office administration skills, but she got married before she could actually find employment. He never saw her passionate about anything or with big plans of any sort. Her only real hobby, that required her to do anything, was religion. She prayed, went to church, attended a bible study group… She tried to get him into religion when he was young, but he never found the interest. He would end distracting everybody in his young bible group and after having been kicked a couple of times, she stopped sending him to them. Leroy Jr believed in God though. He believed something was there, that something, in some weird ways, was trying to maintain some kind of balance in the world. Maybe not in a purely catholic perspective. The few passages he could remember from the holy book did not appeal to him in anyway or were too general to mean anything.

She straighten up and carried a tray of three cups to the table. **“They are arguing about nothing. Good christians are legally buying land and they are unhappy. It makes no sense.”** Leroy senior sat up, his eyes starting to detail that face that he had overlooked for so many years. He had been in love, a lot, at first. She was a good woman. The kind to not want to hang around bars and other men. She also knew how to take care of a husband. Food, cleaning, kids… He sometimes had moments of extreme lucidity, realising he could not have come this far in life without her. But then, the monotony of their existence, her assertiveness, made him grow uninterested. He now realised he lived next to a ghost. He knew the outline of her. Her story. But he realised that the years of shouting for menial issues and the hours and weeks of silence turned them into roommates at most. They shared a bed, they shared a table and a house, but the scheduled life of their household deadened his attention.

“Good christians? Who?” Judie’s eyes raised a second on her husband’s oblivious face. She seemed to be disappointed for a short moment before shaking her heads. **“Lee… You’re so blind sometimes.”** she said, serving the coffee in the three cups. Junior had sat down again. He was twenty one years old and never he had seen such a serious conversation under this roof. Judie ended up sitting at the table, finally.

**“Last Wednesday, with Mary and Richard, we went to their church.”** “Who’s church?” The old counsellor asked. Judie took a small sip of her cup. **“Eden’s Gate church.”** taking a spoon of sugar to put in his coffee, Senior frowned  “What’s that? Is it one of those evangelical groups we had last year as well?” her eyes darted towards her husband, **“No.”** her spoon slammed swiftly on the table. **“These evangelical groups, they preach and preach and they do the opposite once you have your back turned. I don’t trust them.”** and she took another sip.  “Oh I see… Well, if they are good christians, I don’t see any issue with them, you know. As long as they are nothing like these satanic lunatic kids that they show on TV, I’m fine with it!” the husband ended up saying, giggling in his coffee. His mind seemed to wander quickly off, forgetting all about that heavy mood that weighed for a couple of minutes in the kitchen. “Junior. I need you to bring some flyers to Rafael. And make sure he puts them in a good place! Well visible when people come in!”

In the car, Leroy Jr had put some music, one of the local radio always broadcasting old rock and roll music. His fingers were taping on the wheel, following the rhythm of the song. He had the feeling that something was up. The people this morning at the ranch, his mother’s attitude… The discomfort he was feeling could be explained by a lot of things. And he knew that. Leroy Jr was nobody, really. Just the son of… He had tried school and was average at best, a distraction for other pupils some other times. His father found him a couple of jobs that he tried doing before getting fired for showing up late or ending up in arguments with everybody. The fact was, Junior did not like to be bossed around. He did not like to do something useless. Saying that living at his parents’ house, borrowing their money to go out and see his friends, was something that he liked was a mistake though. He hated it. He hated literally every option laid ahead for him. Was it all? Working until you retire and then die? Wasn’t there something else to life? He had no idea if he was honest with himself. The young man often cultivated his know-it-all attitude, but the truth was, he was certain he did not know a lot.

What he lacked in academical knowledge and practical skills, he made up for his wit. The tall and skinny young man was way too clever for his own good. Most of the time, he was able to gauge a situation way quicker than everybody else, but sometimes he had a dreadful feeling, like life itself was on the verge of stopping. Maybe it was just the general mood of the area. Empty farms, broken roads, people leaving for greener pastures… It had a smell of death, only, it was coming slowly and you only realised how bad it was when it was too late. It will pass, he thought to himself, it will pass… That deep feeling, full of desperation, like an itch in the back of his mind, would pass.


	6. Latisha

**Chapter 6 - Latisha**

“What now?” she asked, her head down, reading yet another meaningless document she had to sign, file, and then forget about it. The door opened on one of the young deputy. Sheriff Cooper was intimidating. Being one of the only two black women sheriff in the entire state meant that she had had to fight twice as hard and twice as long in order to get where she was now. Although her skills and her good character made her fit for the job, she knew she had to also thank her predecessors for their inaptitude and corruption charges that ended up costing them their place. When she had bad days, she thought that maybe it was not such a great achievement. She was just better than the dumbest racist sheriff that came before her. She had to clean up so much shit when she arrived, that she got the reputation to be strict and unforgiving. Which was a shame, because she did not plan to be any of these things at first. But along the way, between the bad investigations, the blatant ignorance of the behaviour code and the desperation of the local population, she had to hit hard.

The deputy staid silent and Latisha sighted “What?” and the young man seemed to suddenly wake up. “Hum… Sheriff, there’s old Lionel asking to talk to you…” he said, visibly annoyed of having to bring such a news. Lionel was not a hardened criminal nor he was a frail victim. If anything, Lionel was not frail. But he was a familiar face of the sheriff’s office. During his fifty years living in the area, he had owned a garage in Wood Burrow a long time ago, and he was now enjoying his retired life, spending his weekends fishing, hunting and spending few hours a week complaining about pretty much everything. Lionel was not a counsellor and was not even a lawyer or an esteemed member of the community. He just held his views and opinions so high that he honestly thought that the highest authority deserved to hear them. Having been forbidden to come close to two of the city counsellors, he settled for the sheriff’s office a couple of times a week. 

Lionel was paranoïd. He actually believed sincerely everything he was saying and the birth of the web made it possible for him to find people who shared his views and his numerous theories about pretty much everything. Having that invisible reassurance from people he had never seen in his life was comfortable. Some people - a lot actually - may sometimes call him crazy or a lunatic, but he was harmless. Noisy and stubborn, but harmless. The web had increased his audience but had also given him new reasons to be suspicious. Millions of videos and articles were available, giving information about secret conspiracies everywhere. It was a new era and Lionel was resolute to warn everybody about the imminent danger of… Well... Everything. One surprising aspect of his obsession was that it did not discriminate. His recent quarrels were: the secret conspiracy to put Fruit Loops in front of Big Bran in the general store, involving probably international manipulations and the Bilderberg Group ; the new antenna in the middle of one of the pumpkin farm, said to be there for better phone reception, but which was certainly, without the shadow of a doubt, there to spy on everybody, especially him ; the Sleepy Wolverine, the pub where he was eating twice a week, which had taken out of their menu the sweet potato soup and added curly fries, which sounded like an absurd decision and, as a result, deserved to be investigated ; the new church that had bought some land and some old abandoned churches which could only be full of government agents trying to identify and locate communists… There were other things on Lionel’s list - it was a long one - but these were his main issues at the moment. And today, he was here for the later.

“Lionel?” asked Latisha as she walked to the reception area. The old man was standing straight, papers, as always, in his right hand, and a backpack always full of numerous things. When she had just arrived in the area as the new sheriff, she tried to make him open his bag to check if he had not brought something dangerous every time. They had found a lot of peculiar objects and documents, but nothing that could do any harm. Dried food, metal detectors, geiger counters, calculators, gloves… Every time, it had been a waste of time and resources as it usually involved a couple of deputies to go through all of his belongings.

The man in itself was of medium size and good condition. He was usually investigating all of his theories himself, which meant that he was walking a lot. Somehow, his paranoia was keeping him in good shape. His left hand was paralysed since his birth but he was very dexterous and precise. He had a very good diction that made him sound like a professor or somebody very smart. He also had very good manners, which made it difficult to simply ignore him or tell him to go away. He only ever lost his temper when he thought he was talking to people part of one of his conspiracy theories.

“Sheriff.” he nodded politely. “Why are you here today?” asked the woman, visibly a bit tired. “Well… I have been observing that new group in town, Eden’s Gate…  
\- Yes?  
\- They are strange.  
\- I already told you Lionel, being strange, or weird or looking like a government agent is not a an offense or a crime.  
\- I know, I know, you were very clear about that in the past, he said while twisting his mouth in a weird grimace.  
\- Is that all Lionel?  
\- No. I saw them with guns.  
\- Were they threatening you?  
\- No no, but I saw them walking, with guns on their shoulders in a menacing way.”

Latisha sighted. They were in an open carry state. Pretty much anybody could walk around with a rifle without being arrested. The issue with stopping anybody she thought might be a danger was that she would need to justify why she did not stop anybody else walking with a gun that day. Hunters were common as well as preppers and gun fanatics. They have had issues in the past. People using their weapons to threaten somebody they did not like, or shots fired by mistake in the direction of houses or gatherings… Nothing out of the ordinary, and nothing that could justify the sheriff to go against a federal law.

“Lionel, you would need to have proof that they were menacing in some way… Were they pointing their guns towards anybody?  
\- No… But it looked like they could’ve…  
\- Okay, Latisha tapped the reception desk with her hand, well if you actually see them actually using their guns outside of a private property and endangering people’s lives, you can come back and tell us, okay?  
\- Okay… Lionel looked disappointed. And what about the antenna? Did you investigate like I told you to?  
\- It’s in progress.  
\- I have…, he started putting his back on the floor in order to check something inside, … I have some documents of blueprints used by the military to listen to conversation…  
\- Lionel… I am busy. Why don’t you leave them at the reception and they will give them to me later.  
\- Okay okay.”

Latisha returned to her office in order to not give any more space for Lionel to waste her time. She glanced as the receptionist was getting a big pile of paper from the old man and she closed her door quickly. She had been in the force for around twenty years and was now in her forties. And yet, she had never felt the wish to flee the presence of someone as strongly as she did with Lionel. It was not so much that he was delusional but the fact that he seemed to never be able to stop. Even the most annoying criminal she had to deal with did not elicit this kind of reactions in her. Sometimes she was thinking that maybe it was because she knew she would finish her existence here, retire here and see and hear Lionel for the rest of her life.

Later, in her car, driving home, she turned the music off. The streets spreaded far ahead, almost completely empty. The few shops were closing down and as she drove by the Sleepy Wolverine, she could hear and see people gathering in the pub. She hanged around there sometimes but it was always difficult to really relax. In a big city, she would simply be able to drive far enough to find a place where nobody knew her. Here, she would be the sheriff for the rest of her life, even after retiring. People would always be careful or suspicious, it was the kind of thing that came with the job.

Further West, as the road went side by side with a river, her eye caught something unusual. When she arrived a couple of years ago, a lot of building rested, abandoned, in ruins in the middle of the vegetation and the streets. Some of them were tall white churches. It had been a long time since most of the paint has peeled off. The vivid heat, the bare human presence on the land, the generous yet dry nature had given to the place a strange solemnity, as if the crumbled walls were the carcass of somebody. Somehow, you could feel something looking at you. Maybe the reflection of something you projected yourself on it?

But today, that old busted church was inhabited… Or, more precisely, invaded. People were around it, transporting pieces of wood and boxes. Latisha did not recognise them. Some of them were getting out of the half-collapsed structure, carrying some rubbles. Something inside of her told her to check. The heads of the strangers turned towards her with inquiring eyes. She did not even noticed that she had pulled over. She got out of her car, still wearing her sheriff’s jacket and hat. At forty, Latisha did not look like the cute and pampered house wifes we could sometimes see in the countryside. Most housewives here, anyway, did not look like the stereotypes either. Hardened by the dry soil and backbreaking farm work, they all looked like centuries old portraits of old settlers. With her strong figure and her unforgiving eyes, Latisha did not look like a delicate woman. She had the attitude and the figure of a leader. There was a natural strength emanating from her. Anybody with half a brain respected her. Whether it be friends or foes, ignoring her or diminishing her was a mistake. She had a sharp eye and was very good at gauging somebody on the spot. She was rarely wrong.

Right now, the people facing her seemed to be between their twenties and their forties. None of their faces were familiar. They did not look like a Prayer Group nor did they look like looters of any sort. And to loot what? Old bibles? Broken benches?

One man approached. He looked thirty at the most, short brown hair, beard. He was wearing a brown waistcoat, a white shirt and a pair of jeans. His boots were muddy but looked expensive. He had a smile in the corner of his lips which gave him the look of a car salesman. The kind of look Latisha did not like. He walked up to her and extended his hand to shake hers. “Good evening Sheriff, how are you? Are you having a good day?” something was off. For no clear reason and no apparent sign, she hated him and she wanted to just tell him to fuck off. But at the same time, she was curious and wanted to know who they were and what they were doing here. She forced herself to shake his hand, without going soft on her grip. He had soft and small hands and seemed a bit surprised by her strength. “What are you doing here? Do you have the proper documents to be here?” the man smiled. He had a childish face. Now Latisha could recognise the cheeky eyes of her son in his. Something that further her dislike towards him. He raised his index and said “One second, I’ll get them. Do you want some coffee?” and he left, without waiting for the answer and gestured to a woman who was standing there with a big box. She put in on the ground and walked towards a table that was hidden from the road, containing thermos and cups.

Latisha walked up slowly, observing everything around her. The rest of the group went back to whatever they were doing. They were apparently trying to fix the place. Quickly she got a cup of coffee in her hand. The woman resumed her task after that, the sheriff following her with her eyes. That’s when the annoying man returned. “Name’s John by the way. John Seed. We just arrived in the area.” he had a couple of papers in his hands. “Sheriff Cooper.” she said, keeping the coldest face she could make. Finally, after looking quickly through the paperwork, the man pulled one out. “Here.” he said with a wide smile, revealing his white teeth. Latisha scanned quickly the paper. She knew they had the right to be here. She could feel it. Pretending to be reading she asked lightly “And what are you planning to do with this pile of wood?” John chuckled as if she was being funny and said “Oh, this is not a pile of wood. We are going to rebuild the church and invite people in it. It would be such a waste to let such precious places rotting like that.” Latisha’s eyes met his. For a second she thought she could have detected a hint of contempt. But it was gone. She assumed that it was just her strong aversion for the man that made her see corroborating signs… “Okay, well, good luck with that.” she answered before giving the paper and her undrunk coffee back and walking back to her car. Before she stepped into her vehicule she heard his voice one more time “Have a good evening Sheriff.” Her strange feeling, irritation, curiosity and worry, still weighed on her stomach. As she drove away in her car, she did not see John Seed pouring her coffee on the ground, his smile frozen, hiding a wary look.


	7. Rafael

**Chapter 7 - Rafael**

He looked at the flyer in his hands and sighted. The Burke kid dropped them earlier saying he did not give a flying fuck where he would put them but that his old man would probably come and check later to see if they were properly visible. Rafael did not particularly like the counsellor. But the little man had helped him in the past and the young bookseller preferred to just give up from time to time… His mother had been a supporter and, when she was alive, she would often bake cakes and pies whenever he organised something. Furthermore, he had speeded up the opening of the Reading Elk. He had bought an old house with some inheritance money but it had not been easy at all. The former owners had moved to another state and did not look interested in selling to a latino. Leroy Burke called them personally, having known them in the past. Rafael had no idea what he said and he frankly preferred not to know. He would have maybe taken offence to the obvious racism but at the same time, there were not a lot of other buildings he could afford and buy in the area. At the time, he wanted to stay close to his mother who had cancer. Now, she had been dead for a couple of years and even if he wanted to move somewhere else, he could not afford it.

He settled for the area next to the cash machine. The flyer was blue with a big _“VOTE BURKE”_ at the top and a list of a couple of measures the future candidate had put. They were all ridiculous things, Rafael thought. Getting a tea room, opening a middle school closer to the area, having a bigger leisure center... All of this would probably be very nice, but where would the money come from? Would people even, just, go there? Would it be of any use when a lot of the population had vanished in the last few years? Rafael had grown up in his parents house all of his life. He spent a couple of years in Los Angeles to attend a public university but he came back quickly, missing the quiet and calm life of the village. As a young teenager he forced himself to hate this place. Everyday was a sort of challenge: how many things could he find that were useless or ridiculous in this dump? But if he was honest with himself, he liked it here. People were close and when he arrived in LA he felt insignificant and transparent. The only bright side to a large city was the vibrant gay community that you could associate with in a lot of different ways. But even there, feeling like he could be himself, everything was too fast, too loud, too much. 

He drunk a sip of his cup of tea and grabbed a box of books to put on his shelves. The Reading Elk did not look like a commercial library, with light shelves, nice and clear displays and bright posters... It had been an old house so the selling space was quite small. He had achieved to cram a couple of tall shelves and some smaller ones. The cash machine was at the entrance of what almost looked like a maze. He kept a couple of old armed chairs and a coffee table to put in the middle, where customers or regulars could read a bit. If the space felt tight and claustrophobic, Rafael felt like it was like a fortress. A solid sturdy structure to keep at bay all the little annoyances that stained the outside. A cocoon where to snuggle, to let your mind wander off somewhere far away, and to forget for one second what it involved to be yourself. Leaving the shop was like sticking your head out of the water. The air and light slapped you violently, making you regret the warm and cosy ambiance from before.

The bell from the door rung. Rafael could not see the newcomer as he was at the back of the store, behind one of the shelves. He just said loudly "Good morning!" with his usual polite and cheerful voice. The high pitched voice of Ida raised behind the books “Oh Hello Rafael!” he could hear her footsteps approaching steadily on the hardwood floor. He stood up and pulled on his shirt to hide the wrinkles. She appeared in the tight alley with her usual polite smile. Her eyes were small and blue behind a round pair of silver glasses. “How are you on that fine day, young man?” she seemed to be very fond of him. She had been a good friend of his mother. It was as if every older woman in the entire area took it upon themselves to take care of him and treat him like their own son. He would receive baked goods a couple of times a week, under various false pretenses and he could see groups of women talking to him or about him with their eyebrows low in a constant state of pity. As much as he hated that sort of behaviour, he had to admit that in his lonely existence, any positive attention he could have was good. “I’m fine, Ida, what about you?” she waved her hand saying “Same old, same old.” then she asked “Do you have the books I ordered for my book club?” Rafael raised his index, remembering the request. “Yes yes! I have them just here, come with me!” and he started darting through the shelves, between the chairs until he reached the cash machine. Behind the counter was a small door. He opened it and reached inside in order to extract another cardboard box. He put it on the counter and took one of the book inside to take it out. “Here. Is this the right one?” Ida had followed him swiftly and was now looking at the book. “Yes! It is. Do you have five of them?” Rafael got all of the books out, five exact copies. “Great.” she said as she reached in her bag to find her purse.

The door opened and Ida had to step on the side to let the newcomers in. Two young people with light smiles came in. They were carrying backpacks. They had t-shirts and jeans and were both wearing some kinds of crosses around their necks. As they stepped in, Rafael nodded in their direction saying “Good morning.” and tried to look as relaxed as usual. But he was not. He did not know these faces and that made him uncomfortable. The two young men did not look suspicious though. The first one, black, had a nice face. The kind of kid that would drink coffee at his grandma and help her get her groceries sorted. His eyes looked pure but there was something about them, as if he was on the verge of laughing at every second. The second one, white, had long blond hair framing his square face. He looked less sophisticated and clever than the other one. He looked simpler. His eyes hovering on Rafael, not showing any sign of any kind of thinking behind it. He seemed to be following the first one. The kid had less light in his face.

As Ida put the money on the counter, she turned around and seemed as surprised as Rafael. “Oh hello.” she said. The kids nodded and said “Hello.” with polite smiles. Rafael cashed in the money as the old woman was trying to put the five books in her tight bag. She stepped away as she noticed the young people waiting to talk to the owner of the place.

“Can I help you?, asked the bookseller, not sure why he had an uneasy feeling about all this.  
\- Yes, we would like to donate books, said the first one with the smiling eyes.  
\- Donate ? What do you mean?” Rafael owned a library, people were sometimes trying to sell him old books nobody wanted, but this request was a first. The young black man pushed his partner around in order to access his bad and he got out a couple of identical books. Hardback, white leathered cover and a strange black cross. The same as their necklaces.

“Here, it is a very good book. We would like to donate it.” And he held out one of the book. Rafael took it in his hands and had a quickly look at the back, empty. A couple of steps away, Ida seemed to have succeeded in putting her books in her bag but she was now silently observing the interaction. Rafael opened the book and checked the printing information. “Where does this come from? It looks like self-editing…” he said, realising that there was not a lot of things written apart from a serial number. “It is self-editing. It was written by Joseph Seed, a great preacher.” Rafael was more and more suspicious. None of this was very engaging for the non-believer he was. Being forced to display Burke’s flyers was enough, he did not need to show off a religious book from an unknown preacher now… He held back the book and said “I’m sorry, I tend to only sell books from certain publishers. Besides, I do not partner up with anybody.” the black young man smiled with a big bright smile. In any other circumstances, he would have made him smile even. But he had a feeling that something was wrong in this situation.

“We don’t want to partner up. We just want to donate these books. You can sell them, give them away, let them for people to read when they sit in your chairs… This is…” he seemed to think for a moment and said “... A gift.” Rafael was getting tensed by the second. Framed that way, refusing the gift would look like some kind of insult or provocation. He owned a library and these people were willing to give away free books. He hesitated a moment before saying. “You can leave a couple and I’ll see what I can do… But I don’t want to make any promises.” the bookseller said, raising his hands. The young black man nodded and took out three books to put them on the counter. “No problem sir. We appreciate the fact that you will have a look. Thank you very much.” then, he gestured towards his partner and they walked towards the door. Has the blond boy got out, the other one seemed to pause for a second at the door. He turned and looked at Ida then Rafael before saying “God bless you. Have a good day.” and he left.


	8. Gary

**Chapter 8 - Gary**

Gary was better defined by what he would have wanted to do or to be. As a child, he always had bigger plans for himself. But every single year, he had to lower his expectations. Very Young, he remembered wanting to be an astronaut, but also an artist and a dog trainer. He was not really the goofy kind of dreamer. He was passionate but serious about his interests. Unfortunately his talent was never as grand as his inspirations. Today, Gary was the owner of a pub. Following the long tradition of places named after wildlife, he named it The Sleepy Wolverine. It had a main room, with tables, a pool, some arcades and the bar, at the back, opening on the small kitchen. The floor and the walls were made of classic wooden boards. It had a deep rural Montana feel. Flags of sport teams from the area hung around, pictures of landscapes and also paintings of locals.

If Gary’s hope of a grandiose destiny was not fulfilled, he settled for smaller pleasures. He got into the habit of employing and helping random people. His favourite say was _“Everybody deserves a chance”_. And he upheld that rule in most aspects of his life. He got disappointed a lot and got robbed very often. He lended money that he never got back. But at the end, he was happy for the small victories. He was happy when he saw people gathering in his pub, sipping on a beer, laughing, cheering while watching the TV, sharing food with friends… After a few years, dealing with waiters and cooks not showing up for their shifts, disappearing and then coming back begging to get their position back ; he had found a team that, somehow, worked quite well. Carter, the veteran barman who was not scared of kicking anybody too drunk from his pub ; Meg, the waitress who had a good memory and the gift to put everybody in a good mood ; and Joe, the quiet cook who was way wiser than she appeared. After failing three marriages and never having kids, he almost liked the idea to consider them as family… In a way, that was his big masterpiece.

His pub could easily be called a home for a lot of folks around. His staff was often eating and hanging around the place outside of their shifts and they sometimes dropped by when they were off. The fact that Gary had very few rules was definitely helping people to feel welcomed. His main rule was: be a decent person. And that was it. The only downside to having a big heart was the ever growing tabs that people kept at the Sleepy Wolverine. Gary often told himself that these people were probably not going anywhere.

That day, a warm summer rain broke as the sky was infused with orange and pink trails. As the raindrops were tumbling on the mud, smells of dry grass, dust and moss started to rise. That faint rain did not seem to cool anything down. It seemed to add to the warmth carried by the air, the Earth radiating heat. Gary grabbed a couple of empty glasses left on tables outside, under the wooden roof, and brought them inside. The scent of alcohol and fried food engulfed the place. The warmth was not different from the outside, making it difficult to be completely comfortable. The neat shirt Gary had put on in the morning was now stuck to his chest and arms, showing big stains of sweat.

He was medium in size but had broad shoulders and robust arms. Gary exercised and handled a lot of the deliveries for the bar, but you could see in the definition of his strong jawline that part of it was genetics. He had a dimple on his chin and others on his cheeks whenever he smiled. His jovial face was sometimes hidden by his blond hair, whenever he was busy or concentrating. He would, then, quickly try to fix it behind his ears but it would often fail. Gary had always presented well despite his tendency to be a bit clumsy and untidy. Shirts, well-cut trousers and leather shoes. He almost seemed like he came from a big and distinguished firm but had been stuck in the city without proper clothes for the heat. People would not notice him by his looks however, you would hear Gary first. He had this very loud voice and laugh. Even while listening to others, he would punctuate silences with **“hum”** , **“eh…”** and **“right”** regularly. All alone, the owner would also speak to himself, as he would occasionally forget things and needed to remind himself.

Inside, a couple of folks were already in the bar. Carter was pouring some beer in tall pints while grimacing as some customers were talking to him. Meg was cleaning a couple of tables and reorganising chairs at the same time. At the back, Gary could hear some clings and clongs of plates and cutlery being moved around in the kitchen. The normal melody of a quiet pub.

Gary went into the kitchen to leave the glasses on the rack of the big washing machine. “Everything’s okay here?” he asked to the busy Joe. She looked so small in the middle of the big kitchen. The cupboards seemed to tower her and the large hot plates gave the feeling that she was a child playing in a big person’s kitchen. She nodded and said “Yep, everything is fine here.” without even making eye contact, too busy preparing her station. In the mainroom, Carter was observing the two clients in front of him with serious eyes. The old veteran did not seem to know how to smile. He was scary and spoke with a natural harsh tone, but Gary knew that this was just the way he was. He actually thought he heard him joke a couple of times… But he was not sure if they were actual jokes or just involuntary puns… Gary asked for a beer himself and went to sit near the door, taking out some papers to fill-in. He actually had a desk, upstairs, in his flat. It was a tidy and pretty wooden desk with everything he needed as the owner of a bar. But he found out very quickly that he was more effective when working in a noisy place.

The door opened, letting a damp smell of wet mud in. The rain was now a bit stronger. The newcomer let out a long sigh. Gary raised his eyes quickly, abandoning the accounting documents for a second and saw a familiar face. “Rob’, it’s been a while! How are you? Are you having a beer? It’s on me!” he said, with a big smile, gesturing towards Carter who heard him right away. The man, in his forties but who looked way older, almost seemed surprised to see Gary. He paused for a seconds and tried to smile. His face was drowned into sadness as if the wrinkles that circled his eyes has carved deeper into his skin, until she bone. He looked like he had not sleep in a long time and had just walked out of a cave. His skin was dark and grey. “I… Yeah… Why not…” he looked a bit lost. One could wonder why he had wandered into a bar if it was to look so surprised when offered alcohol. But Rob did not really know why he had entered the bar. He had not been in that place for two years now. His footstep had led him through the wide streets of Wood Burrow, following an old memory of a time where he did not feel so burden with himself. He felt like a contorted doll which strings got mixed-up and whenever you would pull a wooden stick, its movements were jerky and uncertain. His brain seemed to discover all of this for the first time. He had to think carefully in order to walk. Right foot, left foot, right foot, left foot… A baby taking its first steps… Had it been another life? Another dream? Or nightmare? He did not know. But his body took him in here, probably clinging to any familiar thing at all, for survival…

He stayed there, looking at the chairs and the table, as if he had forgotten how to operate them. Gary stood up and pulled a chair out to invite him. He knew Robert was taking care of his dying wife and imagined that he had just received bad news. The question _“How’s Lucy?”_ hovered in his mind, occupying the whole space. But somewhere, in his stomach, something was telling him he probably already knew the answer. Rob sat down heavily as Carter brought a pint of beer. He went back to his bar, not particularly eager to hear all about the disease of someone else’s wife. It was ringing way to close to home right now. He started cleaning the counter even though he had just cleaned it few minutes ago. His ears trying to wander off somewhere else.

Gary looked at the beer and then at Rob. “Do you need anything Rob?” he asked, feeling a bit offended at the sight of the paperwork that laid at the table right now. The man just shook his head and started drinking his pint silently.

Soon, the bar started to fill and Rob disappeared early, leaving half of his pint behind and unanswered questions nobody wanted to ask but everybody wanted to hear the answers to. Gary had a sour taste in his mouth. He knew Lucy had been hospitalised at home and that Rob was handling most of the care. He realised how habits can be ingrained in people, maybe for the worst. At the start, he and others were visiting regularly, helping around, bringing food and treats, and then, the visits started to be less and less frequent… Until Rob was just some kind of itch at the back of his mind.

Gary walked from table to table, sharing jokes and funny stories, throwing a couple of insults when people were talking about the difficult weather, the lack of funding and the lack of jobs… It was roughly around 10pm, as Gary was at the bar, getting a whisky, that he felt that deep weight on his chest. The small itch started to turn into millions of little ants scrambling on his stomach. As he travelled through the microcosm that constituted his bar, Gary could only hear the general exhaustion that everybody was feeling. Money, debts, unemployment, the desertion of businesses and inhabitants… Even though jokes and laughs would break above the ambient clatter of glaces and rumble of voices, conversations were going from one issue to the other, highlighting the current mood of the entire county. It seemed like alcohol could not numb the pain for a few hours anymore.

At the end of the night, Gary was tired. Not physically tired but tired in his core. He was seating at the bar, back turned to the rest of the room, sipping on what was left of a whisky… He almost did not see the man seating next to him. He heard a voice ordering a coke with some ice. Rain had left, chased by the still and heavy night. Gary noticed the unusual soft drink and with his tired smile he joked: “The party’s done eh?” before observing a bit more his neighbour. He was a stranger. First time he saw him in the area. He had a dark and short beard that covered most of his face. He wore big round glasses and his long hair was tied up high on his head. He was wearing a pair of jeans, leather shoes, a white shirt and a dark blue suit vest. Nothing particularly special… Except for his eyes. They were looking down on his drink, but Gary could see the pale blue colour and the profound sadness that inhabited them. The stranger answered “The party has ended a long time ago for me.” his voice, like a dark murmur, sending chills down Gary’s spine. He sounded old, but by the look of his face, he could not be older than in his forties. “Oh… Sorry… Sober?” Gary asked. “Yes. Six years now.” said the man, turning his head towards the bar owner. His features were sharp but it gave him a gentle look somehow. He had a slight smile now. Apparently, he was not holding the initial misstep the local had done against him. “Congratulation mate. The drink is on me then.” Gary said, gesturing to Carter. “Thank you, that is very kind of you.” said the stranger, drinking a sip of his glass.

Gary smiled, finally pleased to have heard something positive tonight. He drunk the rest of his whisky and asked: “What are you doing in the area?  
- I am preaching.  
- Oh preaching eh? Which group are you from? God’s lambs?  
- No, Eden’s Gate.  
\- I don’t know this one… We get a lot of you guys around here to be honest. Said Gary, standing up, going around the bar and picking up a small bottle of fizzy water.  
\- We are fairly new.” He had sipped his coke again. His eyes were now following Gary and although he found his voice quite soothing, his irises were so sharp that he felt a bit vulnerable every time he met them.

“Where do you preach? asked Gary, drinking directly from the bottle.  
- We bought a couple of abandoned churches in the area. They were quite cheap. It is sad. People seem to have walked away from God’s path… His voice had deepened a bit. Gary was not sure if it was sadness or annoyance. His jawline contracted a little bit. The bar owner nodded.  
\- Yeah… Well you know, people have a lot of problems. I imagine that they don’t have time to go to church. But I remember, when I was a kid, we had a strong community in our church. Singing and stuff. It was great.” he felt the eyes of the stranger on him again. Gary never felt particularly self-conscious. He was used to being too much and loud and never really thought about what people would think. But this stranger had a particular aura. He felt almost ashamed in a way. Being a people pleaser, he was often caught up trying to make people like him, but this time was different, he felt under scrutiny. He felt as if it was important to please this man.

His somber voice echoed again, in the bar that seemed empty now. “Maybe they have problems because they do not take the time to go to church…” it was as if the air was slowly being sucked away. Or maybe it was the heat? Gary felt uncomfortable. “Yeah maybe… I don’t know mate. You know, times are hard here. With the businesses closing and everything, it’s like… Everything is just empty.” The stranger had turned towards him, pivoting on his stool. “It is hard everywhere. Look at the state of this country, look at the state of the world. Nothing is the way it is supposed to be.” Gary nodded. That, he could not deny. “Yeah you are right… It’s a shame, we are good people here. We should all be able to… You know, live, and just… Be happy… But it’s like we don’t even get a chance to try and have a decent life.” the stranger sipped the rest of his glass. “Yes, everybody deserves a chance, but it seems that nobody can offer that just yet.” he uttered before standing up and saying. “Have a good evening.” Gary had his shoulders low, like burdened by some invisible weight. Maybe the weight of all the conversations he had heard tonight? Or this stranger? “Oh my name is Gary by the way… Good night mate.” the stranger had already walked halfway towards the door. He turned around and said “Joseph Seed.” very simply before stepping out. Even when the room had been emptied of his presence, the bar owner could still feel like an echo of him.


	9. Judie

**Chapitre 9 - Judie**

The dry spells of air were making the tent’s fabric flow slowly. The temporary construction seemed to have a heart beating and limbs moving. It was the size of a small building, with benches inside and a small platform at the end, in front of a big wooden cross. It reminded her of evangelical groups barbecues she used to attend when she was little. She remembered the first preacher she ever really believed. He was quite young at the time, no more than thirty years old, and he was speaking with such a passion that the then little Judie almost cried. Today, she was feeling the same expectation. As if something huge was on the verge of happening. The housewife could sense something changing around her. On the side of the tent, the ruins of a church. One of many others that laid abandoned in this county. Big boxes and rumbles surrounded the fallen building indicating that people had been trying to restore it. It was not just the wreckage of lost hope anymore, but the prospect of better things to come.

Her dull dress was gliding on her meager legs. It had been a long time since Judie had abandoned the prospect of pleasing somebody, even herself. Younger already, she found these games of flirting and dating meaningless compared to God’s plan and the salvation of her nation. As far as she was concerned, the United States had been sinking further into the deep for a long time now, way before her birth. It seemed now that the inertia gathered by the non-believers was too strong to fight. And still… Still, she had some kind of hope. The wife and mother had found that cramped feeling of faith when she heard Joseph Seed for the first time. Thrown back in time to her childhood, she felt her rusty guts discovering again that excitement of hearing the words of God so rightly put out for the world to hear. She could not get enough of it. Each sentence resonated inside of her for a long time, like a treat you would slowly savour, not wanting that feeling to go away.

Mary and Richard, a couple of believers like her, had also been changing slightly. They were reading the bible over again and seemed to engage a bit more with Judie’s endless analysis of the old testament. When, in the past, she would almost drag them and try to motivate them in order to not lose the only friends she thought she had; they were now following without any hesitation, and sometimes, leading the way, calling her to eagerly remind her of the next meeting.

Their eyes were glittering with excitement, like kids seeing christmas presents under the tree, every time they saw Joseph enter a room. Whereas it was fear, interest, love or suspicion, the Father instilled a lot of strong feelings. His aura seemed to wake up parts of people’s mind they thought buried under the weight of their everyday life. Judie, for sure, had never felt so alive and young than when she was listening to him, raging, crying and singing with the rest of the congregation. It was safe to say now, that they were a community. There were faces that she recognised and people started to know her name. If, at the start, she would seat at the back, listening quietly, her eyes scanning the rooms and scrutinizing the people of Eden’s Gate, now, she proudly tried to get a seat at the front. Her stomach conveyed the need to be as close to Joseph as possible. Little sparkles, a heavy rumble of anticipation, letting her wanting more every time she had to go back home.

As she entered the tent, several people were already seating. Young and old. She had grown used to see only people her age attending these event over the years. But she could recognise the curious looks of some young people of the area. The Bishop girls who helped at their folks’ farm. Allen and Megan Porter, a young couple who owned a small airport and offered tours for tourists. Abigail Merchant, the taxidermist… People she had only seen together at one place during the Pumpkin Festival, sharing beers or hot dogs. And yet, they had met somewhere else, in the deepest corners of their mind: their fears, but also their hope. 

Sliding on a bench, Judie put her bag in between her legs. She joined her hands on her bony knees and her eyes started inspecting her surrounding. She always had been very careful about details. Something she did not seem to have passed on to her son. He navigated life like a ten ton truck, disregarding anything too subtle for him. She had given up very early. The priest of the bible study group for young people had asked her to not send him anymore as he was distracting others; she almost died of shame. If only Leroy Jr had found another place to stay, somewhere out of the state, she would not have to see him lurch in laziness. He was not even embarrassed… So she took on that responsibility for the two of them.

John Seed was talking to some followers. He was a handsome man, well dressed, with a respectful way of speaking. She liked him. She would have wanted Leroy Jr to be like that… Commited to something, and well mannered, not like his father. At least, Leroy was unsurprising. He was a creature of habit and that meant that Judie could live her life without doing much for him apart from cooking the meals and doing the laundry. In a corner of the tent, Jacob, a tall man, stood still. His hair was shaved on the side and a red streak fell down on his forehead. His eyes, blue and hollow, were scanning the tent, like Judie. Their gazes met very briefly. He seemed to be gauging people. Somewhere in his eyes, there was something scary, detached… She averted her eyes to look at the stage. A simple wooden stage, nothing else. Her parents would brought her to mega churches and very expensive congregations when she was young. Glossy stages with golden lecterns and expensive decorations... Priests and preachers would, most of the time, read the bible and repeat old sermons, rehashing the same enfeebled ideas. But new times brought new enemies. They could not just ignore everything anymore, hiding behind their holy books, averting their eyes from sin when it was convenient.

As people entered the tent, the distant ambient noise moved into the fabric walls, carried away by the gulf of airs seeping through the openings. Now, most benches were full and some visitors stood at the back. They were in an empty field close to the main road and to some shops. There were mainly regular people but also new faces, some curious and some suspicious. 

When Joseph entered the tent, from the side, people stopped speaking. Now, all the attention was on him. He climbed on the stage and took few seconds to observe the ever growing assembly. His icy blue eyes hiding behind his glasses, quickly glancing at everybody present. In this simple tent with a more than modest cross and wooden benches, Joseph did not need anything other than his presence to instill some kind of respect. As the public went quiet, some almost stopped breathing, as if not to miss anything from the scene unfolding.

“I heard, not so long ago, that we are the most connected population that ever lived on this Earth. Phones, emails, twitter, facebook… But how many of these connections you make for a few seconds, really matter? How many of these connections really mean something?” he paused, his eyes hovering on the youngest in the audience. “How is that, then, that so many of us have never felt so alone in our lives?” he raised his right hand, in front of him and made a step forward, towards the first bench. “They have lied to you. They told you that you would never be alone ever again. But they were wrong. They just created a space to sell you things you don’t need. They don’t care about you.” he made a step forward and his eyes met Judie’s. He extended his hand to her, and silently, she took it before she even realised she had done it. “But we do, and we will never abandon you or sell you a false sense of happiness.”

His grasp loosened slightly and it was gone, Judie was left with the immediate remainder of his smell and his rough skin on hers. His eyes were now on the rest of the faces, listening. His voice had become louder and fractious. “We have lost our purpose and we have lost our instincts. We have walked away from our original path: thriving, listening to the words of God… The times when we were just wandering around aimlessly are over. I can give you a direction, believing and fighting.” a couple of people started to clap before the entire tent followed. As voices raised to cheer, Joseph shouted, his voice hovering on the clamor like a thunderstorm. “Suffering is a choice. Not believing and taking everything for granted is easy. But it tears us apart. By coming together, atoning for our sins, we will walk together to Eden’s Gate and be finally free.” the applauses started to get stronger and louder, and as euphoria seemed to have consumed most of the listeners, a couple of light voices started to introduce an airy tune…

  
In the west shall rise, a sinister creed  
The rich will get what they want, the poor will lose what they need  
The devil knows our fears, he told all his friends  
They'll block the sun with their lies, as darkness descends

Oh Lord, the Great Collapse  
Won't be our end  
When the world falls into the flames  
We will rise again  
We will rise again

Let the wars begin, we'll keep our pistols near  
Our neighbors frail and thin, as they disappear  
Let the chaos come, let our houses freeze  
The lights will all go out, but we'll finally see

Oh Lord, the Great Collapse  
Won't be our end  
When the world falls into the flames  
We will rise again  
We will rise again  


Judie was starting to know the song. One of the many in their repertoire. Judie’s eyes were hypnotised by Joseph. His tall figure, standing straight on his legs, singing with a beautiful voice breaking away from his unforgiving appearance. At the same time, she tried to remember the fleeting contact they had have for few seconds.

_..._

When she stepped out of the tent, she had that odd feeling. Light legs, dizzy… As if she had just woke up or had been hit by something. The sun stroke through her face and she had to held a hand for few seconds to protect her eyes. The woman felt conflicting things. Inspired by the discourse, reassured that she was not mad… Things were bad, things were not going properly and the pain she was feeling deep inside came from somewhere. The cause was clear and the remedy seemed obvious… But at the same time she felt burdonned. Now, her dark eyes were darting around. As she was going to go back to her car and go, she felt somebody touching her shoulder. It was a light and tender, and she realised that Joseph was now next to her, his arm around her frail shoulders. “I am glad to see you Judie.” she was almost shocked to realise that he knew her name. She opened her mouth for a second, without being able to produce any sound. He smiled and then parted away from her to step in front of her. “I have noticed that you have come to all of our last meetings.” he said. Judie noticed just now how gentle his voice was when he was not preaching to an entire assembly. **“Yes… I… I came to your first meeting, a month ago I think… You are very inspiring.”** she almost did not recognise herself. People would recognise her voice by the decisiveness of her tone and the crisp sound of each of her words, stacked one after the others precisely. His smile grew wider, revealing small wrinkles in the corner of his eyes.  “I am trying to be… But you seem a bit uncomfortable. What are you thinking about?” he asked with a real concern on his face. Her right hand rose to tuck a strand of her black hair behind her ears and she smiled shyly. **“I… I am not sure.”** she said at first, realising that nobody, ever, had asked her what she was thinking about in her life. Everybody seemed to just assume that she was a brainless mom, going from one chore to another without having any kind of aspiration. She started twisting her fingers, trying to find the right words. **“I am just realising more and more how everything is… Empty. I have a husband, a son, but I am just a maid for them. I clean, I cook… It is meaningless, especially given what is happening to our county, our world…”** she would snap at Leroy and Leroy Jr all the time, spitting her words like poison, and suddenly, in front of this man, she felt like what she was saying mattered. As a result, she wanted to chose her words carefully. Joseph raised his hands and grabbed her shoulders gently.  “They do not see your value. They do not see your strength. I can see that you are destined to do greater things than that. Your fate lies ahead of you. Power, glory, and a sinless life. But this is a choice. Nobody can make it for you. Your pain is a choice. You can be free from it.” it seemed like in a dream. His voice was hovering, slipping into her ears. She could almost feel some sort of silky feeling with it. His blue eyes in hers, she felt like the only one in the world. At the same time, her anger was growing. She felt like she was just waking up after a big party and she had missed everything. She was so old… Would she be able to? Almost like he had heard her, or seen her uncertainty in her eyes, Joseph applied a firmer grip on his hands and told her “We will help you. We will never let you down. You can trust me. You only have to choose to be happy, now.” and she heard herself say **“Yes, I am ready.”**


	10. Katie

**Chapitre 10 - Katie**

The house was growing quieter and quieter. It was like a dense cover falling on the windows, blocking the air out. Just like the old dollhouse in the attic, Katie felt like one of the dusty doll inside, incapable of moving or getting away from the cobwebs. She also felt forgotten in the middle of all this. As soon as Lucas started to go to the hospital regularly, her parents were taking shifts between their jobs and Saint Mary Hospital. And her, at home, was often watched by the old neighbour. She was nice enough but a bit boring. She looked at Katie with sad eyes all the time and it was really annoying her. Her parents would come back home in the middle of the night, and the first few times, when the little girl woke up to go and see them, talk to them, they just told her to go back to her room… She had been angry, a lot. She was angry at everybody and everything. Her parents for not paying attention to her anymore. Her teachers for not seeing anything. And Lucas, for dying.

At first, she thought she was mad at him for stealing their parents all for himself. One day, she went to his hospital room. It smelt odd. There was flowers, little objects and toys from his room that were left on the side. He looked sleepy, really sleepy and he did not seem to be able to have a normal conversation. There were a lot of people in the corridor, talking in hushed tones. Her mom had told her that Lucas was apparently soon going to be meeting God. Katie had been jealous first. How come nobody had asked her about meeting God?... But then, she understood what that meant. Dying. He would be meeting God but he would never really come back. And they would meet later, when she would join God just like him.

She had asked, of course, if God could not wait a bit. Just a bit. But she got told that it was not possible. The hospital was not a place she liked. Despite all the people being very nice with her, buying crisps and sweets for her, the people praying with all of them, hugging them… She would have wanted to have all of that at home, with her parents and Lucas. 

Well… She got what she wanted. But not quite. That’s when Katie understood that she should have been a little bit more precise with her prayers to God. Her parents and Lucas were back at home. But now, Lucas was always in his room. Sometimes, she would hear him cry or talk in a high pitched voice, sometimes it was her parents that would cry or speak weirdly. The relentless movement at the hospital transformed into sluggish whispers and tip toeing.

The door of the kitchen was closed. It was odd. She never noticed that door before. It was always opened, lunch or dinner smelling from the living room. They would slip through the opening to steal some biscuits or sweets with Lucas, when he was not sick. But today, no aroma of pies or pizza, but muffled voice.

The Father was there. Katie started see him in tents and local community centers where he was preaching. She did not always understood what he was saying, but her mom and her dad were very passionate about him. He was moving his hands, spoke with a loud voice… But what Katie really liked, were the songs. She knew them all by heart. She also understood only half of them, but she understood the fundamental: they were good and they would fight to keep bad people at bay. When Lucas started to be ill, the Father would visit them, personally. Her mom told her how special they were, to be able to speak with a preacher who received messages from God regularly. Katie was often drawing for him, trying to include as many Holy symbols as she could to impress him. He looked pleased but he always had that sort of… Fear in his eyes when he was looking at her. She did not know why. Nevertheless, she did not see him that often lately. He often talked to her parents, in the kitchen, behind the closed door.

Katie was pretending to play with some dolls and cars. Pretending. Because what she wanted was to hear anything from the other side of that door. She also wanted to grab some crumbs of attention the second her parents would step outside of that room, before they would go back to Lucas’ bedside.

The door opened. The Father was seating at the kitchen table, holding the hands of her mother who had her head low. Her father had his back to her but she could see his shoulder shivering. Somebody stepped out and closed the door behind. John had a smile on his face, as always. “John! Are my parents going to come out soon?” she asked. John was very funny and very nice. He would sometimes bring her little things like sweets and drawings about the bible and the Father’s vision. He would ask her what she thought and they would talk. Having that kind of attention from a grown-up was something that Katie cherished a lot. John frowned and sat at one of the couch of the living room. “No Katie, your parents are talking with the Father, it may take some time.” he replied, looking a bit sorry. He joined his hands on his knees and laid a bit forward as Katie looked disappointed “Oh Okay” she shrugged. “Now Darling, come on, let’s go in the garden, it’s beautiful outside.” he said, standing up and going towards the back door. The Seeds had come regularly at her house. At the start, it was once in a while and in the past few weeks, they had come every three or four days. They knew the house, and they had started to know a lot about the family history.

Outside, Katie felt like she could breath more fully. As if, inside, she could not fill up her lungs. Maybe it was Death taking a bit out of everybody’s air… She imagined it hiding in the shadows, with long and sharp nails, brushing them behind people’s back, retrieving some blue bubbles like she had seen in a biology book. Then he would eat them with his nasty black teeth… But in the garden, the wind seemed to bear much needed oxygen. She walked down the few steps until the grass and ran for the swing.

As she sat on the wooden seat, her little shoes hanging around two feet from the ground, John, all smiling, went behind her to begin pushing her gently. Lucas and dad had stopped doing it a while ago. Now, whenever the Seeds came, John or Faith would play with her. They would give her most of the attention she would receive in an entire week. She would prefer her mom and dad to be there, but right now she did not have a great deal of choice in the matter.

As she swung into the air she could hear the rope creak. The wind was rushing in the bushes and in the distance she could hear cars. A tall green mountain was towering her house far ahead. It was very far away but sometimes it felt as if it was going to crash onto them.

“How are you doing Katie?” said John after a few seconds of silence. Her teacher would ask her that in the morning as well, but she did not think that she was really listening, or even, really asking her. She would ask it repeatedly to every child of the class and if you would start telling a long story, she would just say _“We’ll speak about that later”_ and then never actually ask about it ever… Katie had grown used to say _“I’m fine”_ automatically. So she said  “I’m fine…”, her eyes going over the roofs of the neighbouring houses. “You don’t have to lie, you know, God knows…” the word God seemed to snap her out of her dreams. “God… I was told he knew everything everything, that’s true right?” John just said “Yep.  
\- And does that mean that he knows when I’m sad?  
\- Yes, that also.  
\- And does that mean that if I do something just to look good, but I don’t want to do it, he knows that as well?” John held the two strings to make the swing stop and walked around to stand in front of the child. “Katie, you do not need to be perfect. We all make mistakes. That is why it is important to listen to the Father and to do what he says.  
\- Did you do mistakes ?  
\- Yes, lots. And I started listening to the Father, and now I am better.  
\- You are happy?”  
John crouched and smiled. “I am. And you can be happy too if you want to.”


	11. Carter

**Chapitre 11 - Carter**

The axe fell down on the piece of wood a first time. Carter raised the tool again and chopped the piece in two. He leaned forward and grabbed the logs to throw them on the pile, on the side of his lawn. He took off his gloves and got a can of beer, resting on the table nearby. The heat was so dense that day, that he could feel a migraine starting to form behind his right eye. He knew that alcohol was not helping, but on his days off his thoughts seemed to have all the freedom to roam around in his head. This morning, he woke up with the distant will to end his life. A faint murmur, the outline of a possible plan, and reasons, lots of reasons. He brushed it all off with beer and whisky before even getting some food in. In the morning, he conducted some errance and in the afternoon, he went fishing. Around five, he went back home and started cutting wood. He already had some stock for the winter, more than enough, but he was looking for impact, violence, hits, something to shake his skull and maybe, straighten his thoughts.

A car stopped nearby, close to his house. _Could it be Joe?_ No… She often went out on the weekend and did not come back until night. He heard steps walking towards his house and he felt some anger, but also fear. What now? He sighted and drunk a big mouthful of beer before crushing and throwing the can on the ground. As he went around his little house, he stopped. 

A tall man was standing by his gate. Further down the road, a white hummer, and people walking around it, grabbing bags and books from the back seats. The man was a military. Carter could feel it. Standing straight, eyes up, arms resting on the side. He felt like he would break in a salute at any second now. The veteran was, in fact, suspicious of his brothers in arms. He had seen corruption and the excitement of combat ruining well meaning initiatives. He had also seen the damages angry veterans could do in politics… He could not blame them too much though, because he could, actually, be qualified of angry veteran involved in politics in some ways. He had lots of weapons in his house, and he highly suspected local and federal government to be corrupted… But still. He had the decency to keep it to himself.

He walked forward, ready to just tell him to fuck off of his property. Closer, he could see the red hair on the top of his head, his blue eyes and some scars appearing on his neck and forehead. He had that cold stare of somebody who never really got out of the fight.

“Yeah? What do you want?” said Carter, clearly showing that he was annoyed. The other guy shrugged and said “I just want to talk to you.”. The old man fought the urge to insult him. He did not like people who beat around the bush. “Talk about what?” he asked, a couple of feet from the gate. The intruder held a book up, white, with an odd cross. “My name is Jacob Seed. I’m a veteran, like you. We arrived in the area a couple of month ago. We have a veteran program if you want to spare a minute…” his voice was calm and he seemed to pose no threat of any kind. The thing was, it was not the first time Carter had had this sort of visits. A lot of evangelical groups would tap into former militaries to fill in their congregations. It was usually good for the publicity and also would allow them to manipulate a group of people in desperate need of some help. Without saying it out loud, they would exchange their support for food, social activities or job hunting workshops. Carter never liked that kind of thing. First of all, his religious belief was almost non-existent. Something, somewhere maybe existed. But he would not trust any human being to guide anybody for a religion. Nobody was perfect and, more importantly, everybody could be corrupted. That alone, made him highly suspicious of any organised religious group at all. The more powers they had, the more cautious he was.

“A veteran program? No thank you. Where did you get my address?” which was really what he was worried about. How did these people get information on him, and what other kind of information did they get? Jacob nodded and seemed to smile. “We just asked around if anybody needed some help…” Carter’s face grew wary and suspicious. Who would dare to send him these people? He could, actually, easily think of a couple of old folks who always looked at him their eyes full of pity. But still… The veteran found astonishing how people sometimes could be so easily fooled. He could smell danger on these guys a mile away.

“I don’t need help.” he said, crossing his arms on his chest. His eyes were running on Jacob’s attire. Hunting-like clothes, walking boots… His eyes caught the glimpse of some shapes in his side pockets… _Knifes? Guns?_... He started to feel more and more uneasy.

Jacob chuckled. “It is sometimes difficult to know when you need help.” his voice was firm and steady. As if he was stating something obvious. He added “Well… If one day you chose to be happy, I’ll leave our flyer here.” he got cut by Carter. “Don’t bother.” he growled behind his beard. His eyes were darting angrily at the intruder. Jacob smiled again and walked off without seeming annoyed in the slightest.


End file.
